


Perspective

by taralynden



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 14:05:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taralynden/pseuds/taralynden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seen one way, a series of unconnected events in the daily lives of the Ark's crew; seen another, the brewing of a storm that was always going to come</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perspective

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the LJ prowlxjazz community Halloween challenge.  
> Originally published on FF.net as part of "Prowl & Jazz challenges"
> 
> Warning: have tissues on hand, this one does a bit of a twist at the end.

**Darkness**

"All the perfumes in Arabia cannot sweeten this little hand."

The words hung in the air along with one raised hand, almost invisible black against the dimness of the room, then Prowl covered it with his own white one and squeezed it comfortingly. Now was not a time for words.

The crew of the _Ark_ saw Jazz as ever cheerful, always bright and energetic and ready for the next challenge, always ready for fun. They never saw the darkness in his moods, he never let them.

Even his staff, who should have known better, who had seen him grim and efficient and deadly in his role as Meister seemed prone to forget, and Jazz worked hard to ensure it stayed that way.

Sometimes, though, the depression overcame him; sometimes the darkness won through.

Jazz sobbed, curling forward as Prowl embraced him from behind. Jazz never liked to be looked at when he was like this; was too overwhelmed by the guilt of his past deeds to bear scrutiny. But it was also bad for him to be alone, to suffer uncomforted.

Prowl never asked why, never pressed for detail. It would pass. In awhile, the tension would ease from Jazz's frame and he would sigh and apologise or express quiet gratitude. Then he would bury it all deep again. Hidden until the next time it became to hard to bear.

For now, though, he battled the darkness, and the best Prowl could do was be there with him until he was again ready to face the light.

* * *

 **Black cat**

"Have you heard that saying 'black cat crossed your path is bad luck?" Bluestreak asked as they patrolled the city streets. "Why black? Why not white or multicoloured? And why is it bad luck just because a cat was walking perpendicular to your path? What if you walk alongside one? Or if it's on a path and you're not? Or..."

Jazz let him ramble. A talkative Bluestreak was a happy Bluestreak, and recently many of the others had been less tolerant. Or perhaps Bluestreak himself had simply been going through a bad patch. In any case, that was why he had asked Prowl to pair them up on patrol together for awhile, to give Bluestreak a chance to normalise again.

"...any particular breed of cat? Does that matter? Does it have to be domesticated, or do wild cats count too?"

It was a drab day, not particularly warm nor cold, low cloud cover that threatened no rain but simply dimmed the light. Traffic in the city was steady and so far there had been no delays.

"...what if you jump over it? Or turn your back? Is there a distance limit? What if one crosses your intended route so far ahead that you don't even see it, does that still count?"

They turned off the main street towards the desert; time to head home. The traffic signals ahead were red and they stopped. Waiting, Jazz idly watched a shadow move in a nearby alley.

The shadow had tracked them ever since they entered the city, but had stayed carefully out of direct line of sight. A moment passed, and then it withdrew, apparently deciding to end the game for now.

"Hey Jazz, the light's green." Bluestreak prompted him. "What're you waiting for?"

"I'm just watchin' a black cat that decided not to cross my path." Jazz murmured. "Guess it's my lucky day."

* * *

 **Ghost** (or, " _Crossing the streams is baaaad_ ")

Prowl read slowly through Red Alert's very long and painfully detailed report. It was true that he appreciated detail, but a single event that had lasted less than an hour should not generate a report that required the memory capacity of three separate file pads. Nonetheless, that was what he had so he made certain to read every line of it.

He worked his way through the eyewitness accounts, paying particular attention to those written by Gears, Trailbreaker and Beachcomber who were less prone to hysteria than some others. Wheeljack's account he only briefly perused - the engineer was still muddled after the incident.

He analysed the vitriolic medical review, annoyed at the number of casualties this had caused: it seemed he would have to rework the duty roster for a fifth time this week.

The supply report listed a variety of missing components, but also named some he was not so certain of. What, for example, was 'marshmallow'?

Finally, he re-read the confession of the guilty mech sitting in front of him before raising his head.

"So." he summed up. "After viewing this film you felt it necessary to encourage Wheeljack to attempt to recreate the equipment and led half the crew on a chase around the mountain to use it, resulting in twelve casualties, the destruction of two of our energon reservoirs, damage to several of our auto defences as well as several of the Ark's facilities and a large hole in the recreation room wall."

"It seemed like a reasonable action at the time." the mech explained sheepishly. "If these lifeforms truly exist and are benevolent then we need to make contact with them, and if they are malevolent it made sense to be prepared."

"There is no empirical evidence for this." Prowl pointed out.

The other mech opened his mouth as though ready to argue, then gave in.

"You aren't going to send me to the brig for this, are you?"

"Hardly." Prowl sighed. "If for no other reason than it was destroyed during the twins' testing of the equipment. No, you can work this off by helping Hoist and Grapple repair the damage."

The mech rose and turned away, but Prowl had one more comment.

"Oh, and Prime? Please do try to remember that not everything you see on television is real."

* * *

 **Pumpkins**

The door closed behind Carly and Jazz looked down at the smaller human left behind, Carly's seven-year-old niece Jessica. Carly had asked if he could watch over her for just a little while so she could round up Spike and Sparkplug and Chip who were scattered around the Ark. He had been happy to oblige - it was a break from his reports, and it was always fun to get to know another human.

"Jazz?" she asked in a sing-song voice.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask a question?"

"Sure."

There was a pause, then she scooted a little closer.

"Um, Jazz?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do you live in a pumpkin?"

He frowned.

"What?"

"All the walls are pumpkin coloured. Did you paint it with pumpkin paint?"

"Uh..."

"Ew, that'd make it so smelly! I had some pumpkin seeds. They were like this."

She made a shape with her fingers that really did not help him, but she carried on before he could comment.

"And we planted them. But they didn't grow much. But my friend Casey? She had some too? And they grew so so so so big and they were everywhere and they even went up the fence and up into Mr Johnson's chimney and he got so mad and her dad had to cut it all down. She didn't get any pumpkins, though."

"Oh."

"But Jazz, why do you live in a pumpkin?"

"It's not a pumpkin, it's a spaceship."

She stared at him for a moment.

"Have you seen Cinderella? It's my favouritest movie ever. She's like a princess and she's got sparkly shoes and a silver dress and a silver, um, hair thing, and she dances."

"Well..."

"I've got a Barbie Cinderella but her head came off."

Jazz hesitated, completely losing track of what this was all about and feeling helpless to direct the conversation. In fact, he was beginning to wonder if this was how Prowl felt when he was dealing with the twins and their pranks.

"That's... sad." he ventured.

"It's okay," she reassured him brightly. "I put it back on. Zara has the whole set with the Ken Prince and the coach and stuff and it lights up and everything. She's in my class but she's horrible. She wears big red glasses like this."

Her hands went to her face, basically obscuring her features, then seemed to wait for a prompt.

"Well I guess..." he began.

"Um, Jazz?" she interrupted, hands falling to her lap again.

"Yeah?"

"So... Why do you live in a pumpkin?"

~Prowler?~ he called desperately.

~I'm busy. Is this important?~

~I think I'm having my first ever CPU crash. Help!~

* * *

 **Costumes**

"Please, Prowl?" Sideswipe begged.

Prowl ignored him, keeping his focus on Perceptor.

"Has that signal fault been resolved?"

"Yes, two hours ago. What's interesting is that it was solar radiation causing the disturbance."

"It'll be fun!" Sideswipe pointed out.

"I understood the atmosphere on this planet deflected most solar radiation."

"It does, but this was a particularly strong wave. Cosmos is collecting some data for us - if we can predict when the next such wave will hit, we can collect a large amount of energon in a short amount of time."

"It won't make a mess, and it'll help keep everyone here. You said you wanted everyone here."

"Is there any likelihood the Decepticons could do the same?"

"It's not likely. Their collection technology is antiquated - mostly relying on ionic cubes generated and filled with raw product and then converted."

"Prime's already said yes!"

"Yes to what?" Perceptor frowned.

"You don't want to know." Prowl assured him, then turned to Sideswipe. "Prime approved of the concept of a gathering. The resources you are requesting were not discussed and must be ordered through Red Alert and approved by me. So far you are not convincing me."

"But it's great public relations. The humans'll love it. Carly and Spike've already said how much they want to share more of their culture with us, and we've already promised we won't play any pranks that day. Please?"

He knew he was going to regret this, and yet Sideswipe had some good arguments. The Decepticons had been quiet for awhile, and everyone needed some kind of diversion. Besides, he had already decided that they were not going to repeat the debacle of the previous year: this year, on that date, all of the Autobots were staying confined to the Ark.

"No pranks between now and then, or the deal is off." he warned.

Sideswipe winced but nodded.

"Okay."

"Very well. You may organise this... 'dress up' party."

Sideswipe cheered and ran off, dragging Perceptor with him and babbling about a website where costumes could be ordered.

Already dreading the results, he returned to his office and began writing the confirmation for Red Alert, who would certainly protest. When someone entered a moment later he expected it to be the irate security director, but instead it was Jazz carrying a wad of fabric.

"So I hear you gave in. Knew you would."

"Word spreads fast, it seems. What do you have there?"

Jazz smirked, shaking the fabric out to reveal a black item with white frills.

"Gotcha the perfect costume, babe. You're gonna look fantastic in this."

* * *

 **Crescent Moon**

"Two words. First word, two syllables."

"Throw? Throwing something?"

"Eyebrows? Angry? Ooh, I know, Ratchet!"

"Hey!"

"Not Ratchet?"

"Wrench?"

"That's only one syllable, idiot."

"Well what's a syllable anyway?"

"Weren't you listening when they explained?"

"Will you two shut up, we're running out of time."

"Spanner?"

Jazz settled back on the couch, handing Prowl a cube of energon.

~What're we playing now?~

~It's called 'charades'. It involves one person acting out a phrase which their team has to guess before the time limit expires. Spike is doing the acting for this team and Carly for that one. So far Carly's team is losing but if Spike's team don't get this one the scores will be even.~

"Welder?"

"It's a tool right? It is a tool? Um..."

"Round... arc welder?"

"That's three syllables!"

"Shut up!"

Jazz leaned back on the couch, draping his legs casually over the side and just incidentally leaning up against Prowl. The humans still did not know about their relationship, but he liked to be able to get away with this kind of thing occasionally.

~So what are the clues so far?~

~It's a two word phrase, something in the natural world not manufactured. The first word has two syllables and is the name of a tool.~

~What's a syllable?~

Prowl shrugged faintly, then sipped at his energon.

"Okay, second word. Quick - we're almost out of time."

"Round? Again?"

"Sky?"

"Round sky... sun?

"Planet?"

"Moon? Hey, moon? Yeah. Okay, something moon. Quick, Spike, what's the first word?"

~They're really getting into it.~

~It does seem to be an effective and harmless diversion, yes.~

~Wanna go do something naughty while all the bad bots're being good?~

He felt Prowl twitch at that suggestion, then the tactician spoke up.

"Time's up."

"So what was it?" Trailbreaker asked.

"Crescent moon." Spike sighed. "You know, like when there's only a little bit left."

"Okay, our turn again." Carly grinned. "And this one's a place. Here we go."

Happy enough to stay comfortably seated against his lover, surrounded by the relaxed crew, he was a little startled when Prowl abruptly stood up as the next round began.

"I believe I'll go and check what kind of moon we have tonight." he announced to a couple of mechs nearby who glanced in his direction, then strode off.

A little put out, Jazz was resettling himself on the couch when Prowl sent him one more message.

~Care to join me?~

He grinned and knocked back the last of his cube.

~Be right there, Prowler.~

* * *

 **Orange**

"Why do humans have to make everything so complicated?" Red Alert grumbled.

Prowl shook his head, watching the most recent human visitors head off down the long quiet road back to the highway.

The first visitor to arrive that morning had said he was from 'orange' and was here to see Optimus Prime. After some discussion - and interrogation from Red Alert - it turned out that the telecommunications company he worked for was called 'Orange' and that he was trying to sell them some equipment.

The second visitor had also said he was from 'orange' but knew nothing about telecommunications. Instead it transpired that he was the governor of an area in California known as 'Orange County', and was hoping to get some of the Autobots to come on a tour.

By the time the third visitor from 'orange' arrived, even Red Alert had stopped panicking about it, and had listened calmly to his explanations about coming from a music recording studio and wanting to get Blaster to act as 'dj' (whatever that was) for some upcoming party.

Over the next three hours they had representatives from Orange Design offering them a website; Combustible Orange, offering a "guest spot" in their comic strip; Orange Research, who wanted to manufacture some of the components they would need to expand Metroplex; and Orange Parachute who explained that they could provide ISO 27001 compliance certification for if any authorities looked into the construction of their city.

As they watched, another vehicle approached and parked, and two humans got out.

"Let me guess." Red Alert said disgustedly. "You're from orange?"

The man and woman glanced at each other, then the woman shrugged.

"Close. We're from Yellow, as in the Yellow pages?"

* * *

 **Trick**

"Prowl. Thank Primus - I was unsure that you would be able to locate me."

Prowl gave him a considering look.

"Your message was somewhat obscure. I assume there is some reason why you are here?"

He twitched and felt his antennae clink together.

"I..." he began, then paused and peered past Prowl. "Who else is here?"

"A few others. From your message I was not sure if you would need medical assistance. Do you?"

He grimaced.

"What I need most of all is to get free of this rock slide and to rest for awhile."

"Prowl, do you need a hand? Oh hey you found him. Hey, everyone, through here!"

Typical Bumblebee.

"Please, I would much rather avoid a fuss."

"Hey, no problem." Bumblebee smiled at him. "We'll have you out of there in just a few clicks. My name's Bumblebee, what's yours?"

"This is Nox." Prowl introduced him. "He's one of Meister's agents."

Bumblebee took another look, frowning slightly, then hid that expression as others arrived.

In very short order, they had him freed and they all trooped back through the tunnels into the sunshine. Outside, Skyfire was waiting to escort them back to the Ark, but Nox paused.

"I have forgotten something. I must go back for it - it will only take a moment."

Prowl nodded.

"Go ahead, we'll wait here."

Nox hurried back out of sight, then activated a thoroughly illegal set of programs. A few painful moments later - thanks to the dents he had accumulated - it was not Nox but Jazz who hobbled around the corner. His armour was back to its normal shapes and his colouration back to black and white.

Sorcelling was what had kept him unnoticed when infiltrating Decepticon bases for centuries, but it was much harder to explain here on Earth with so few Cybertronians left. The others were babbling to each other, but Prowl had come forward to meet him.

"I explained that you signalled Nox and that he passed on the information to you before heading back to his own shuttle." Prowl told him. "Are you alright?"

"Just tired, and feeling stupid for getting caught like that." Jazz sighed. "Still, nice to know I can still pull that trick, eh?"

"Only until Ratchet finds out." Prowl reminded him. "Now come on, I need that data to plan this next assault."

* * *

 **Spider webs**

"I hate the Earth. I hate organic slagging things that make messes everywhere..."

Jazz nodded to Prowl as they both turned in to the same corridor.

"I hear Sunny's in a good mood." he joked.

"He is upset because some small organic lifeforms entered his quarters during his absence and soiled them."

"Get it off get it off get it off! Ugh, it's sticking to me! Sides, come back here!"

"You aren't going to offer to send someone to help?"

"Hound is already in there assisting."

"Oh Primus it's crawling around in me! Get it out!"

"Hold still, Sunstreaker, I can't get to it - you're going to squash it."

"Argh!"

"What I don't get," Jazz continued as they paused at the next intersection, "is why there would be spiders only in their room and nowhere else in the Ark."

"I believe Red Alert may have had something to do with that. He did not take kindly to the last prank Sideswipe played."

"That's true, but messing with Sunny's cleanliness fetish? Dangerous stuff."

A clattering made them both turn, then they pressed against the sides of the corridor as Sunstreaker sprinted past, draped in spider webs and screaming, followed by an anxious Hound and a far less anxious but amused Tracks.

"I take it he's catching all this on the vid?" Jazz asked casually, watching them go.

Prowl looked at him archly.

"Using the security system in such a way is against regulations."

"So?"

Prowl smirked faintly.

"So it's a shame that I am currently off duty, or I would have to go and investigate."

* * *

 **Fog**

Prowl stopped. The fog made it difficult to be sure, but he was confident he was close to the rendezvous point. A short while later, three other figures materialised.

"So." Ratchet grunted. "It's time, is it?"

"We always knew this was going to happen." Ironhide put in. "It couldn't remain a secret forever - it was only a matter of time."

"What do you think he'll do?" Bumblebee asked.

Prowl shook his head, feeling tired beyond words.

"I'm not sure. He remembers none of it."

"You mean he chooses to remember none of it." Ratchet growled.

"Well I for one do not begrudge him that." Prowl said sharply. "What you did..."

"What I did saved his life." Ratchet snapped back. "What you've done since is what we need to deal with now."

"You could tell him yourself." Bumblebee suggested. "He'll listen to you."

"I have tried." Prowl sighed. "He can be immensely stubborn when he chooses, and he does not wish to hear this."

"Tell him." Ironhide insisted. "Find a way."

He and Ratchet disappeared back into the fog, but Bumblebee lingered.

"You don't want to, do you? You don't want him to know."

"The knowledge will bring him to despair."

"But he has to know. He has the right to know."

Prowl nodded sadly, knowing they were right. Bumblebee disappeared too, then Optimus and Jazz arrived.

"There you are." Optimus greeted him. "How are you coping in the fog?"

"My navigational sensors are functioning perfectly, just as yours are."

"Yeah, but the visual's all freaky." Jazz grinned.

Prowl nodded faintly, but kept his focus on Prime.

"Optimus, if you have a moment I have some information I need to share with you."

"Now?" Jazz asked. "Here? Wow, what's the goss?"

"This is for Prime, only, Jazz."

"Huh. Fine. Catch up with you later, then."

Jazz headed off and Prowl composed himself then looked up at his commander.

"I fear that this will be difficult to hear, but you must listen. Please."

* * *

 **Treat**

Jazz onlined and smiled as he felt Prowl shift against him.

"'Bout time you took a morning off. You work too hard."

"So everyone says, until they need me to have done something."

"The _Ark_ won't fall apart if you disappear for a few hours."

"Sometimes I wonder."

"Aw, mech, you're still dwelling on that whole mess in the fog?"

"You know what I spoke to Optimus about?"

"A'course." Jazz chuckled. "I am Chief o'Special Ops, after all. Y'shouldn't worry, though. Prime understands it was an accident."

"An accident." Prowl mused. "Yes, it was. Do you believe that?"

Jazz shrugged.

"Stuff happens. Seriously, Prowler, you gotta learn to relax."

He felt Prowl's chin rest on his shoulder.

"I'm not the only one. You're wearing yourself out. Why don't you spend some time with Blaster today? You two hardly seem to talk anymore."

"I'd rather spend it with you. Blaster's been goin' through some stuff. He needs some space."

"Hound and Mirage, then. Or some of the others."

"You tryin' t'get rid o'me, babe? What're you up to?"

"I just wish you were happier, Jazz."

"I am happy."

"No. You just think you are."

Jazz frowned.

"Well, gee. _This_ is a depressing kind o'conversation to have on a morning off."

Prowl sighed and snuggled closer.

"I'm sorry. Alright, lets spend the time together instead, then."

Jazz smiled.

"Now there's a real treat. You takin' the whole day off!"

"Perhaps not that long." Prowl chided him. "But... awhile. You might be busy later, anyway."

"Mech, it's gonna have t'be somethin' slaggin' spectacular t'drag me away from you when I got you all t'myself!"

* * *

 **Graveyard**

They stopped at the memorial marker, and let Jazz walk on alone the last few steps. It was a warm day, and the sunlight glinted off minerals in the stone, particularly where it had been carved with Cybertronian glyphs. Metal would have been more traditional, but was hard to come by in these quantities on this planet so stone was the best alternative.

"Jazz, mech I'm sorry." Blaster said awkwardly.

Jazz shook his head, tracing one set of glyphs in particular.

"This makes no sense."

The others looked at each other uneasily.

"We... uh..." Hound began.

"I asked them to humour your delusions." Optimus spoke up, arriving finally.

"Delusions." Jazz murmured, looking around and seeing other familiar names in the stone.

"We needed you, Jazz." First Aid told him earnestly.

"We could not afford to lose anyone else." Optimus continued. "Losing Prowl, Ratchet, Bumblebee and Ironhide all at once was a heavy blow. When you survived but seemed to still see them we could not spare the time to argue with you. Now though, with the Decepticons off Earth, it's time for this charade to end."

Jazz shivered.

"Remember how Prowl an' I snuck out while you all were playin' charades? That was here, right? That happened?"

"We played that game." Hound agreed. "But you were the only one who snuck out. There was no-one with you."

"But I remember..."

"You went outside and wandered around for awhile talking to yourself, then came back in." Smokescreen told him apologetically.

Jazz shook his head, denying what they were saying, turning his back on the memorial.

"No. No, it's not just me. What about... what about the time we wanted to throw that costume party for Halloween. Prowl wouldn't let anyone leave the _Ark_ because of what happened the year before, but he let us have a party and Sideswipe begged him to let us commission some costumes."

"Sideswipe begged you." Blaster grimaced. "You were in one of your moods, pretending to be Prowl - he knew you wouldn't answer to your own name."

"That's ridiculous!"

"We have the security recording if you want to see it." Optimus told him evenly. "Blaster is right: it was you."

"But what about..."

He trailed off. This morning he had lain on his berth with Prowl and they had talked. He remembered that. But now that he thought about it he did not actually remember seeing Prowl. Prowl had been behind him, between him and the wall, and that was not normal. Prowl usually charged on the edge of the berth so he could sneak off to get more work done if he felt he needed to.

"No."

Prowl had been trying to tell him something. Had been sad and serious.

"No."

The accident. Why could he not remember the details? He had been there, and there had been an explosion, and then he had onlined in the repair bay. Why did he not remember Prowl being there? Prowl had been even closer to the blast - surely he should have had injuries too? His own damage had taken weeks of repairs to sort out, but he remembered Prowl coming to visit him. And Bumblebee, and Ironhide and Ratchet. And none of them were even scratched.

"No!"

* * *

 **Thirteen**

Thirteen years. Just a small fraction of a vorn, and yet so very long.

"Is it true?" he asked aloud, huddling on the ground in front of the memorial stone, letting the rain wash over him. "Am I really so crazy?"

There was no answer.

Sobbing, he buried his face against his knees. How could it be true? He remembered so many details - how could he have invented so very much?

A hand squeezed his shoulder and he gasped, shuddering.

"Don't touch me. How do I know you're real?"

"You're not crazy, Jazz."

He moaned.

"No, no, I can't be hearing you. I can't be feeling you. You're dead."

"Yes, I am."

"Oh Primus, I really am insane."

"Jazz, listen to me. Please. The accident..."

"No."

"We were all caught up in it. We were all dying - none of us died immediately, but the radiation and heat was damaging our sparks. You were the furthest away, the least affected. Ratchet had an idea..."

Jazz screamed, drowning out the voice. But he could not drown out his own memories.

Flashes were returning to him. He had been down the corridor checking the way was clear when the explosion had occurred. He had felt the blast shove him back, even at that distance. His armour had been perforated by shrapnel, his visor cracked, fluid spilling everywhere. But he was barely aware of his own pain. He had raced back to the main room and found...

Arms held him tight, rocking him.

"It's okay. I'm here."

"You're not. I'm imagining you."

"Not exactly."

"Oh, so you're a ghost then?" Jazz snarled.

"In a way, yes. But also, no. Do you remember, Jazz? Do you remember what Ratchet did?"

They were all a mess, frames already starting to turn grey. Ratchet had ordered him to drag them all closer together. He had collapsed amongst them, and then... peace.

"We strengthened your spark with our own." the voice told him quietly. "A multi-way bonding of sorts, I suppose, though without the usual backlash when the partner dies. You see us and hear us and feel us because we are with you. It was the only way to save you."

"Why?" Jazz asked brokenly. "Why me? Why was it worth it?"

"Because Prime needed us. He could not cope with losing all of us at once. And through you, we managed to do more than that. Ironhide and Ratchet were both too weak to have much influence, but Bumblebee and I had been a little further back, a little more sheltered. We are with you, Jazz."

"What, and now you're leaving me? Is that it?" he asked bitterly.

"We can't leave you. We're part of you. All of us."

"So what am I supposed to do? I'm talking to a ghost!"

"I tried to tell you earlier." Prowl apologised. "I tried, but you wouldn't listen. You weren't ready. Some of it got through, but then you would just bury it again and forget."

Jazz shook his head.

"I don't want to live like this. I don't want to be here without you."

There was a long silence, then he felt Prowl's forehead rest against the back of his helm.

"No-one is forcing you to." he said quietly.

"What?"

"Optimus needed you, but now the Autobots are strong again. They've seen they can manage without us. If you chose... I would understand."

"You're suggesting suicide? You? That's crazy. Or maybe it's not, since obviously I am."

"I'm tired of watching you hurt like this. Under normal circumstances you would have died with us. Perhaps it's time to go."

Jazz raised his head and stared at the memorial, letting his gaze drift over the names, watching the water flow over them.

"What'll happen if I go?" he asked after a moment. "Who'll take my place?"

"I'm not omniscient, Jazz. I'm an echo of the mech I was, saved in your spark. I can't see the future."

He raised his face to the sky, letting the water wash over his faceplates.

"You'll be with me?"

"Of course."

He considered for a long moment, then let his head drop back down.

"You did this deliberately, didn't you?" he asked tiredly. "Made me consider it so I'd fight it."

"Actually, no. You've done so much, Jazz. Maybe it is time to rest."

"No. There's more to be done. Not sure I could do it alone, but I don't have to, right? And they all think I'm crazy anyway, so it won't make any difference if I keep pretendin' you're there. I'll fight on for a bit. See how it goes."

He felt Prowl smile and nodded to himself. It would not be easy, but he could do this. He had done it for thirteen years, he could do it for longer. And he would.


End file.
